"Ever hear of a hair dryer?" I asked.
"They give me split ends. "
"Running around with wet hair is going to give you pneumonia. "
"You know darn well wet hair has nothing to do with getting sick. "
"So they say. " But I'd never been convinced.
The drive to the lake passed in silence until Grace turned onto a narrow hunting trail a good half mile from the Gypsy camp.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"We wanna find out anything, we need to go about this a little quieter than usual. "
"Sneak up and spy on them you mean?"
"Yep. If you've had an attack of conscience, you can wait here. "
I didn't like the idea of spying, but since I liked the idea of marauding werewolves even less, I followed Grace into the woods.
A heavy bank of clouds drifted over the sun. Shadows danced through the leaves, making me glance to the right, then the left, on more than one occasion, fearing I'd seen something more solid than a flicker flitting between the trees.
"I'm getting a bad feeling," Grace murmured.
I had the same feeling, but I kept it to myself. What good would talking about it do? I'd only become more spooked.
We reached a slight incline. Grace dropped to her stomach and peered over the edge. I did the same. We lay on a rise that sloped down into the trampled, grassy area used for parking. Not a soul was in sight there or near the surrounding wagons.
I consulted my watch. Early, but there should still be someone hanging about.
"Bad feeling getting badder," Grace said.
We waited a few more seconds; then Grace got to her feet and headed down, hand on her weapon - one of those I'd seen on the kitchen table, loaded with silver.
When we reached the edge of the camp Grace paused, putting her finger to her lips. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it as she cocked her head.
Moments later she released the breath and opened her eyes. As always, the flash of green against her dusky cheekbones surprised me. "No one's here. "
I tended to agree with her, but - "How do you know?"
"Deserted places have a. . . well. . . " She looked away. "An aura. "
"An aura," I repeated. "Is that like a musty smell?"
"Hell!" She stalked toward the animal wagons. I hurried after.
We rounded the corner
at the same time, then stared at a whole lot of empty.
"This is not good," Grace said.
"Understatement. Where could they be?"
"Where do you think?" She swept her arm toward the trees and nearly clocked me in the nose. "We're going to need Animal Control. " She began to pace, thinking out loud. "Tranquilizer guns. If that grizzly or that cougar gets near town - "
She didn't have to finish. She didn't have to tell me to hurry. I headed back the way we'd come, scrambling up the incline and over the top with Grace on my heels.